


The Teacher and The Student

by pendragonfics



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Elf Reader, F/M, Fluff, Gender unspecified reader, Healing, M/M, Skipping Class, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:34:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23647801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pendragonfics/pseuds/pendragonfics
Summary: Reader takes the day off from learning the ways of Healing to enjoy nature but is caught by their teacher, Lord Elrond.
Relationships: Elrond Peredhel & Reader, Elrond Peredhel/Reader, Elrond Peredhel/You
Comments: 5
Kudos: 53





	The Teacher and The Student

**Author's Note:**

> This was a Tumblr request!

He was ever so serious, and that was his nature. Perhaps there had been a time in his life where Lord Elrond spared a smile to those around him, but you? Ah, there was no such luck. You were raised in Lothlorien, and you had been sent as an envoy to learn under the tutelage of Lord Elrond of Rivendell in the ways of elven healing. Whilst you became a close friend to his daughter, Arwen, the Lord himself was elusive, often studying his tomes than walking bouts in the beauty of nature in his valley.

And when it came to your studies, you _were_ avid. Truly. Healing was always a passion of yours, to which you were sent to Rivendell to study. However, it was not particularly stimulating to hear a recital of the method than _observation_ itself - there was no lie that you learned better with your hands than memorising material.

But Lord Elrond did not change his ways for anyone, let alone such an elf as yourself.

That was why instead of joining him for more lectures, you had decided not to.

The sun was high in the sky, the clouds fleeting, and plants flourishing after the recent rains that fed their roots. The scent of their blooms, as well as their beauty, were what dissuaded you from attending your commitment, or perhaps it was the way the birdsong lured you from your bedsheets? The way that the dawn itself tugged at your heartstrings, alluring you to watch it rise? Such a day was rare, and though life was not short for those with elven blood, it was quite unlike you to miss such an opportunity.

When the sun reached the peak, you knew you were due in the conservatory for the classes. But instead, you were running through the kitchens with your blanket underarm, snagging a loaf of bread, a square of cheese, and rushing to the green gardens that awaited in the courtyard. You dodged the ladies and lords milling in the corridors, the maids and maidens alike, the servant boys and the children of the forest who flocked from all over to be in the company of Lord Elrond and his council.

Of course, doing all of this was quite unlike what you had been trained over many years to do, and eyes followed your movements no matter where you went. You were no quick-footed rouge, but yet, you made way to a secluded sector of the garden, where only the birdsong and rush of the nearby stream caught your ears.

If your father, your mother…the elders you were raised by heard of the mischief you were up to, they would surely die of shame or spurn you from their name. You were to learn the art of healing from Elrond himself, a pioneer in the study. But your heart, it was wild, free, and like a butterfly that constantly evaded the net’s clutches that sought it. You had no will to hurt them willingly. You only wished to enjoy the simple pleasures of existence.

Taking a bite from the bread loaf, you mulled the thought of Lord Elrond upon your mind.

He was a stern elf, with a strong jaw and piercing eyes that arrested your every thought from manifesting. There was a way to him which made you wonder if he was born for greatness beyond the station that he had achieved, or if your mind concocted that from your idle worship. Surely, you were younger than him and older than his children, but your fascination with him, his study of medicines and the healing properties of magic had overtaken your mind since you were but an elfling.

Swallowing, you realised that there was perhaps something more to it than what you had thought. Yes, you knew that you were keen to learn his ways, but the more you thought of Lord Elrond, the less you thought about the content of his teachings, and the more of how he gesticulated, the hue of his eyes, the way his circlet caught the light, the tenor of his voice…

“Absent, I see.”

You flinch, realising your reverie was not a conjuration of memory at all. Lord Elrond stands before you, at the edge of your blanket that was set down for picnicking. He looked not dressed for teaching the art of healing; there were no white robes as he often wore, but a shift that refracted the light into minuscule rainbows but appeared the same hue as the clear sky itself.

“As are you, my Lord,” you nod his way and talk around a mouthful of cheese. “I would apologise, but there is nothing to ask forgiveness for when the day is as fair like this.”

“As fair a day as today is, it does not account for duty.” He replies, voice even.

You tilt your head to him, sparing him a smile. “Duty or no, surely your presence here to scold me in the stead of a servant of yours allows insight to your ways, my Lord.” You pat the space beside you, where if settled, your teacher could perch comfortably. “Sit, my Lord. The day is young, we are not; let us bask in its beauty.”

“If your elders heard how blasé your tone spoke of duty, would they reconsider your presence here?” he retorted.

You blink.

“My Lord, have I offended you?” you ask.

He does not reply. Lord Elrond stands where he does, his arms crossed. He does not sway in the breeze. He looks every part the warrior that he is a healer, a leader, a complex elf. He watches me, and I cannot bear it.

“For if I have,” You continue, “speak plainly.”

He gestures, no words spoken. For there is no approval nor denial, you stand and look him in the eye.

“I know I do not appear to learn your material, yet I am your most devout student. I know the methods you teach; I memorise every one of them. I have made sacrifices to be here, to learn from you, but I have not sacrificed my very nature, and if that is what it takes, then yes. Send word of my attitude to the Lady of Lothlorien herself, and I will be away within the month. You shall never hear from me again.”

The corner of his mouth pulls skyward. “And to relieve Rivendell of my favoured nimble-footed, sticky-fingered, quick-witted elf, talented in the art of healing? It would not be heard.”

You pause. “My Lord…what do you mean?”

The quirked corner of his lip spreads until his flat mouth is pulled into a happy shape. He motions to the blanket, and you lower yourself to it, and see him doing so as well. The refractions from his clothes look so beauteous this closely, and you cannot fathom what goings-on are going on. He breaks a corner from your stolen loaf, same as the cheese, and eats your food in a contentedness that you have not witnessed in him before.

“Lord Elrond?” you ask once more.

“It seems that as fast your wits are, as vast your memory, and as clever your retorts may be,” he says through bites of bread and cheese, “you are as witless as the rest of the Middle Earth to advances as them all.”

You blink, and suddenly when you realise, you feel your heartbeat dash. Suddenly, the blanket that you share seems so small, and you cannot feel yourself think, or breathe as you once did so effortlessly.

“I know now, you are my student, and I will not act on impulses, as would be foolish,” he continues. “But…once you have succeeded in learning the ways of healing, spend your learning in action and return to your elders, I shall court you the proper way.”

Your mouth is dry, and no words come forth. “I- my Lord Elrond, I-,” you exhale, and try once more. “But that should take months, years! Whatever will become of us?”

He pauses and closes the gap between the two of you. “I will wait. I will not take advantage of my student, as is improper. But my feelings for you are true. I will wait until you are in a place to be courted, to use the power you acquire here for your own sake.”

You consider his proposition. “I understand, my Lord - what you say is noble. I apologise for not coming to your teachings today, but this…this conversation was perhaps the best that could have happened.” You nod. “I shall curb my feelings for you until we are equals.”

He nods once, and as quick as it was, the smile upon his lips fell back into the usual flat line. “I am glad we see clearly on the matter. Shall I walk you to the chamber for today’s class?”

You nod, rising from the blanket. “As would be a pleasure, my Lord.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Tumblr on as @chaotic--lovely, and if you want to request a fic, check out [@pendragonfics](https://pendragonfics.tumblr.com/request_conditions)! ʕ·ᴥ·ʔ✿


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